Jason Robinson - England's glory

Pele had it, so did Maradona and Lomu and Offiah. And at Murrayfield this afternoon Jason Robinson proved that he too has the sublime and ruthless touch which is bestowed so rarely on international sportsmen.

Pele had it, so did Maradona and Lomu and Offiah. And at Murrayfield this afternoon Jason Robinson proved that he too has the sublime and ruthless touch which is bestowed so rarely on international sportsmen.

There surely cannot be a better finisher in world rugby than the man they call Billy Whizz, who joined rugby union's international elite less than 12 months ago and has bewitched rugby fans with his mesmerising running ever since.

In truth it was perhaps just as well on a Murrayfield afternoon on which England demonstrated the broad scope of their ambition without ever looking entirely comfortable and Scotland displayed their undeniable courage without ever appearing to possess a cutting edge.

And at the end when England had triumphed 29-3 to avenge the ignominious defeat here two years ago with their biggest margin of victory on tartan soil you had to wonder quite what was going through the mind of Robinson's mum.

A true Scot her eyes must have misted at the rendition of Flower of Scotland.

They must have positively welled with pride, however, at the performance of Robinson, a bustling, burgeoning bundle of brilliance - the sort of player who fills stadiums such as this.

The sort of player who captures imaginations and encourages youngsters to pick up an oval ball and run for their country.

Twice Scotland had asked, nay implored, Robinson to join their ranks when he switched codes from rugby league 15 months ago.

Twice Robinson had courteously rebuffed the offers of Scotland coach Ian McGeechan to wear the white shirt of England - and everyone who supports the red rose should be thankful for that.

For not only is he living proof that wonderful things come in small packages, he appears increasingly to hold the key to Woodward's ambitions.

In the bigger picture this Six Nations opener was the first step on England's road to the World Cup in Australia in 18 months time.

If they are to fulfil their promise and eclipse their current rating as the world's second best side they not only have to win this Championship, they must win the Grand Slam they have agonisingly failed to do for the past three years.

Robinson could not have got them off to a better start, scampering over after just nine minutes for his first Championship try courtesy of a flowing three-quarters movement which saw the ball flit gleefully from Wilkinson to Cohen to Healey before Robinson added the coup de grace in the corner.

Five minutes later again he sniffed out the opportunity, turning up on Mike Tindall's shoulder to leave the Scotland defence once more trailing in his turbo-charged jetstream.

The double score took a Tyson-sized bite out of the Scottish confidence. It also took whatever passion there was out of a strangely muted affair - not a banner to be seen bearing the legend "Banockburn 11", barely a drunken Scotsman in sight - which was in stark contrast to the euphoria and delirium experienced in these parts two years ago.

To be fair the portents were always pointing firmly in England's direction from the moment it became obvious the pitch was firm and the breeze merely capricious as opposed to the howling gale and monsoon weather of yesteryear.

Such conditions, if not perfect, were conducive to running rugby, a philosophy on which England manager Clive Woodward has pinned his colours.

And they were true to that commendable aim, if not always entirely successful.

Tindall, starting his first international since losing here, was a revelation in the centre. Ben Cohen, at the end of a traumatic week in which the court case surrounding his father's death concluded, was a man seemingly on a tribute mission as he bulldozed his way over for a last-minute touchdown.

Jonny Wilkinson at fly-half showed how much he has matured from the callow number 10 who lost his bearings in the wild monsoon of April 2000.

And the England forwards, where World Cup glory will surely be won or lost, were solid and dependable, led inspirationally as always by captain Martin Johnson.

But then Duncan Hodge, the man who scored all Scotland's points two years ago, was also an English ally.

The Scotland full-back had the sort of game which will become his recurring nightmare, one where with each kick the posts get narrower and the ball smaller. Hodge stroked four penalties at crucial times short or wide, came up with the fumble to gift Tindall his second-half try and had a dropped goal charged down.

And as the lone piper outside Murrayfield played a final lament you had to agree the Scots had contributed greatly to their own downfall.

For McGeechan and co. it could be a long disconsolate winter.

The red rose, meanwhile, blooms in direct proportion to the "Robinson Roar".